Wonder Woman
by brodie-wan
Summary: Chapter 5 is up! Kensi ponders Deeks comment on the 'adult' content of her journal.
1. Chapter 1

**Wonder Woman **

It was amazing how fast a bloodied patient, in a hospital gown, could make his way to the exit when waving a gun and yelling incoherent nonsense along the way. As he pushed open the door, he saw her-them. She was a magnificent blur of kicks, fists, and elbows. It was in the moment that she stood alone, buffered solely by ferocity of her training, that he recognized two things. First, Vakar had her in his sites. Deeks raised his weapon, with considerable effort, and fired. Slumping against the outer wall of the hospital, he sighed in relief. Kensi was safe. His second realization was that calling her Wonder Woman was one of the truest statements he'd ever made.


	2. Chapter 2

**Restless**

It had been a day and night of fitful, sedative induced dreaming for Deeks. He dreams of a Latino standing over him and repeatedly pulling the trigger. No matter that the reality was only two shots. In his dream, the man continued pulling the trigger long after the bullets were gone. The Asian storekeeper was replaced by Sam Hanna shaking his head while he watched Deeks die.

He didn't scream awake, nor was he soaked with post traumatic sweat. He woke with a deep breath and a long sigh of resignation. His semi conscious heroics in the hospital courtyard were over. There was no fan fare, no ticker tape parade, no congratulations. There was a wounded man "chained" to his hospital bed. And, there was Kensi.

She sat next to his bed as she had after his shooting and watched. He always wondered what visitors did when they held vigil over unconscious patients. He imagined they prayed; even those who have never professed a belief in God. However, he wasn't in a coma or near death. He was sleeping; recovering; trying to make the best of being incapacitated.

What was her motivation for watching him? He didn't exactly not like it, but it was weird none the less.

"You're making me nervous," he croaked. "Stop staring."

"I was just trying to determine if it's the job or the salty, sunny SoCal climate that's put so many lines on your face."

"Ha…ha," he groaned. "I've been shot. It ages a guy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Blue**

It was the kind of rain that blacked out the sky. A previously sunny day rife with possibilities, in the blink of an eye, became a blanket of debilitating apathy and lethargy. Kensi Blye sat at her desk, knees up, a pencil trapped firmly between teeth, and stared out the window. Torrential rain could be hypnotic and, given the accompany thunder and lighting, she couldn't help but watch in amazement. But, as such darkness could sometimes do, it turned her thoughts to melancholy.

Deeks had been released from the hospital three days ago and had not come to the office once. Though he hadn't officially returned to duty, she hoped to see him at least once. She called him every day since his discharge, each contact triggering a danger sense which she couldn't quite nail down. He sounded fine on the phone, cracking jokes and alluding the world of hurt he would bring her when he returned. The words were there, bright and promising, but there was something wrong, some undercurrent in his voice which troubled her.

No one else seemed worried. Callan said: 'He not scheduled to return for another few days.'

Sam said: "Let the man convalesce. He'll _need_ full strength when he returns.'

Eric said: 'He's probably surfing; getting his head straight.'

Hetty was no less help: 'Give him time, Dear. He needs to rest."

Didn't he get enough rest in the hospital? She knew she was being harsh, but her worry over his well being was beginning to make her unreasonable. Since when had she become a stalker; sitting by his side every day while he was in and, now, calling mercilessly like a freaky mother hen. She wondered what he made of it all.

He always seemed happy to see her; seemed happy to take her calls. But that was no different than before. That was Deeks. She knew he was attracted to her, but she kept him at a distance. Maybe if he was still police; maybe if they met under different circumstances; maybe if…

It was useless to speculate; useless to fantasize about something impossible. He was her partner. There were rules. There were reasons for those rules. She believed in them.

What she didn't believe in was letting a man sulk; if that _was_ what he was doing. Her stalker status was about to be elevated. Deeks would be having a visitor.


	4. Chapter 4

_It's been some time since I updated this one, but this season has given me plenty of inspiration for Kensi, et al. This will be the first of three ficlets featuring Kensi and Deeks directly inspired by recent episodes. Since this is my drabble thread, I'm going to stay away from multi-chapter fics. That said, I'm sorry to those who were looking forward to a continuation of the last chapter. _

_This chapter was inspired by the opening scene of a recent episode where Deeks and Kensi were about to play paper football. _

**Football**

Kensi watched intently, chin in hands, as Deeks carefully folded a piece of printer paper into a tight triangle. She knew the little white triangle well; had played the game many times over the years. Paper football was a game that children enjoyed, little boys more often than not, where one player is the 'kicker' and the other, 'the goal posts'. One player would place the 'ball' on the table the flick it with their index finger to make it through the uprights, provided by the other player placing their thumbs together and pointing their index fingers toward the sky.

Kensi had dominated her block as a kid; her accuracy a thing of legend. In fact, her inability to lose had caused a few fights in which her gender was mistakenly overlooked and more than one kid went home with a bloody nose.

Deeks met her eyes, waving the football in the air. "Wanna play?"

"Of course," she replied, as if it were understood. "It wouldn't be as satisfying watching you play with yourself."

"Hardy har har," he droned at her joke. "But satisfaction comes with victory. You expect to win?"

"I _am_ undefeated," she answered confidently.

"A strange thing to brag about," he said, shrugging off her proclamation. "But okay. It seems you have a history with the game."

She narrowed her eyes and became suddenly serious. "Yes, a history of broken souls left in my wake. Some actually cried when they left the table."

Meeting her gaze with equal intensity, Deeks replied: "That won't happen here."

As her partner lined up his first shot, Kensi was suddenly conscious of the white shirt she was wearing as well as the mischievous machinations of the man opposite her. Her shirt was just low enough to provide an attractive target and given that his attraction to her was no secret, he would surely try to hit the bullseye. Thought he had never confessed his attraction in any serious way, she knew. And, if she was honest with herself, the feeling was mutual. With that thought in mind, she raised her 'goal posts' squarely in front her chest and grinned.

The detective's eyes went wide, but he was already committed. He flicked the triangle too high on its base and sent ball in a line drive which hit Kensi's left thumb and fell to the desk in front of her.

Kensi's eyes followed the ball as it fell, then turned them to Deeks. His look of disappointed disbelief was like a boy who had blamed for something he didn't do.

Kensi stood up and rounded the desk to come to his side. She leaned down and whispered in his ear: "Don't cry, Deeks. You're in good company…so to speak.

Deeks just nodded at her provocation.

"Another game?" Kensi whispered in challenge.

"Oh yeah," her partner replied, coolly, turning so that their lips were mere centimeters apart. "It is _so _on."


	5. Chapter 5

**Good to Know **

"_So what you're saying is that a journal has more adult content. Good to know. Good…to…know."_

The comment was still with her some hours later; after the case was solved; after a true Libyan freedom fighter was born; after she left OSP and headed home. Why was Deeks so fascinated by her journal? Why did he ask so nonchalantly about the difference in diaries and journals, and then proceed to add his own editorial comment and bask in its afterglow like he had some kind of hidden upper hand.

She had to admit there was something sexy about his cool confidence; they he slouched in the chair, arms and legs crossed. He looked so relaxed in that position and his questions, which she knew were pointed, came out as easy going chit chat. She had to stay on guard just avoid divulging too much when with him.

It wasn't that she didn't like him. She did. In fact, she liked him too much. And, because she had decided not to cross the invisible line, she was forced to channel her feelings into her journal. She wrote about their day to day; the small moments they share, that if her shields weren't up, she would fall- Scratch that. She would never fall into his arms or swoon, or even be mesmerized by his sandy, sun bleached hair or his ocean blue eyes.

She was strong; constantly fending off the sorties of his affections no matter how covert.

He was weak; as exemplified by his constant innuendo and attempts to win her devotion.

He attacked.

She deflected.

It couldn't stay that way forever. Could it?

Who was she fooling? His comment about the adult content in her journal was spot on. It wasn't just the minutiae of their work lives. It was her dreams; the way he took her like she had never allowed another man. It was the trust she gave only when asleep; the piece her she wanted Deeks to have, but was not willing give in reality.

It was the way she couldn't breathe when she thought he might die. It felt like a piece of her was being ripped away; a depth of friendship which had been absent for so long.

Marty Deeks was her best friend.

She wondered if, even in the depths of his juvenile psyche, he thought about her this way.


End file.
